


when our children tell our story

by Cloudnine101



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6006412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Nobody has to know," Sousa - Daniel, Jack supposes he must call him that, now - says. "It could just be us."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What would we do? Run away?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	when our children tell our story

They're interviewing a man and his partner. It's fairly obvious. They hide it well, but Jack knows what he's looking for. The signs are clear. Mr Brown and Burke are homosexuals - homosexuals who work for the department, and, as such, need to be reported.

As Mr Brown pours the drinks, Sousa leans across. "His hands are shaking."

Jack nods, and accepts his glass with a word of thanks.

 

/

 

"It's a witch hunt," Carter says, later in the day. "They're scared."

"Scared of what?" Sousa's lounging back in his seat and smiling. "They're pretty tough." 

Carter snorts. "They're scared of - of anybody different. They want to fight this change."

"I suppose finding your secretaries kissing in the cupboard _would_ be traumatising."

Sousa's talking about it so flippantly that it seems almost inane to be worried - those two women who fell in love. Oh, yes, right. Oh, yes, _that_. Jack, on the other hand, is breaking out in a sweat on the back of his neck. He goes home early with some pathetic excuse, and stands in the shower until he calms down.

 

/

 

"What's your opinion on Jeff Burke and Martin Browne?" Chief asks, fingers folding together on the desk. There's a photograph of his wife in his inside pocket, Jack knows.

"Nothing to worry about with those two, sir," Jack says. "They're not an issue."

Sousa glances at him, surprised. Jack ignores this.

 

/

 

"Do you think it'll ever be equal?" Sousa says. His crutch is resting by his hip. "For us and them."

Jack doesn't have to ask what he means. He's known those words since he was fifteen years old - he was _them_ , and his family - mother, brother, sister - was _us_. His sister's married, now, he thinks. Jack hasn't seen her in a very long time - too long, maybe, for reconciliation. 

"Let's hope not," Jack says, and grinds his nails into his palms until the point before they bleed.

 

/

 

Jack's in the theatre district. They're following up a lead there. Somehow, Sousa's been assigned as his partner once again. It's becoming more and more difficult to work alongside him. Jack could pass it off as looking out for his buddy, but that's not going to work for much longer - and anyway, since when do partners find one another _handsome_? Since when do they dream up excuses to brush against one another's sides - to bump wrists, to grab drinks, to be together? Since when do they _pretend_ -

"Somebody's following us," Sousa says, "stay close."

Jack is startled.

 

/

 

"We have to go to a bar," Jack says. "A bar for faggots."

He sees Sousa twitch - liberal Sousa, who doesn't understand the first thing about what it means to be different, to have a part of yourself that's sitting in the back of your mind, to be unable to control your own _desires_ -

"Use that word again," Carter says, "and I will ensure that you are on traffic patrol for the rest of your life."

 

/

 

"I can't believe this." Jack slams the door shut and turns around. "I can't _believe_ it. 'Course we're looking for one of _them_. Why couldn't they have sent Brown, huh? What's Burke busy with? Everybody knows they're - "

"That's the thing, though. Nobody does. Nobody apart from you, and me." Sousa's eyes are as soft and kind as ever, but they're filled with something cold. It's not the way he looks at Carter. Jack's never going to have that look - but if he can't get it, this one is close enough. " _You_ could've told."

"They would've been fired." Jack turns his face away. He's burning hot with shame. He can hear his heart jack-rabbiting. "They're good men, even if they're - "

"No. Stop this. Stop it." Jack feels the sting before anything else - the sharp prod of the crutch to his chest. He staggers and his back hits the car door, impacting with a crack. Sousa's right in front of him, glaring. "You know you don't mean that. There is no "even if". There's no them. There's just us."

"What are you talking about?"

Sousa's teeth are gritted. He's strong and powerful and beautiful. Jack wants to kiss him.

"Let's go inside," Sousa says, and so they do.

 

/

 

They find their target. He's on the dance floor with a younger man. Before Jack can stop anything, Sousa's grabbing his hand and yanking him forwards. Jack stumbles. His hands find Sousa's waist. Sousa's crutch has been forced in-between their bodies.

Sousa licks his lips. His pupils are blown wide from the darkness. Jack hopes that's what Sousa thinks is happening to _him_  - that their delirious proximity has nothing to do with it whatsoever. It doesn't, he reminds himself. It doesn't.

"Just do what I do," Sousa murmurs, and then they're swaying together, Sousa painfully, dangerously close. Jack wants to hold him. Jack wants to run both hands across the sides of his hips and call him gorgeous, and darling, and everything Sousa wants to call Agent Peggy Carter. The Chief has a photograph of his wife in his inside pocket. Martin Brown has one of Burke on the beach. He showed it to them on the day they went around. They'd sat in a pretty little living room and watched two men lying through their teeth.

 

/

 

The target is taken into custody. The boy he'd been dancing with looks faintly lost. He's given a blanket. The police stand in clumps, as do the _regular customers_. There's a distinct line between them - one that Jack knows will never be crossed. Sousa's still standing next to him.

"We need to talk," Sousa says.

Jack shrugs, nonchalant. He allows Sousa to lead him outside. Sousa's limping more than usual. The suit highlights the slight curve of his legs.

"So," Jack begins, but Sousa forces him to one side. They're standing in an alley beside the bar. The light from the police car nearby is emanating through the windows. Sousa marches him past it, until there's nobody around to see. Sousa's profile is stark.

"I _know_ ," Sousa says. "I know _what you are_."

And this is what Jack has been working to avoid for twenty years, since he was nine years old and he had looked up to see his father's disappointment and his mother's shame.

"Tell no one," Jack says, his hand clamped in Sousa's collar. Sousa's up against the wall, now, clinging onto his crutch. He could fight Jack off. He could do it without wasting a breath. "I swear to God, if you do, I will make your life Hell. Are we clear?"

"No, you don't understand," Sousa says. "I am, too."

Jack can't breathe. Sousa's brushing down his shirt, watching him warily.

"You are?"

"I am." Sousa smiles a little. "You couldn't tell? I thought us homosexuals were meant to be hyper-aware of one another."

"Guess not," Jack chokes.

Sousa's eyes have drifted. "We'll finish this later," he says, but it sounds more like a promise than a warning, even as Chief advances steadily towards them.

 

/

 

Sousa kisses like he's drowning. He gasps for air. They're pressed together in Jack's apartment, and Jack's trying to get them towards the bed, or towards the couch, but they aren't going anywhere. Sousa's mouth is hard. He's _warm_ \- so very warm.

"Nobody has to know," Sousa - Daniel, Jack supposes he must call him that, now - says. "It could just be us."

"What would we do? Run away?"

Daniel's lip twitches without humour. "Maybe. We could be like Burke and Brown."

"Hiding," Jack says, voice cracking. He leans back against the wall. Daniel's hand falls away from his cheek. "What if I'd turned him in that day? What if it had been different?"

"We'd have found another way," Daniel says, with such absolute certainty that Jack has no choice but to believe him.

"If you say so," Jack whispers, and presses his fingertips against Daniel's collarbones.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Hamilton title, because I have no shame.


End file.
